


Reclaiming Humanity

by Aondeug



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Most of the poems are not explicit, NSFW poems have warnings before them, Poetry, Renamed My Unit, spoilers for all routes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2020-10-13 08:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 5,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20579735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aondeug/pseuds/Aondeug
Summary: Edelgard von Hresvelg has kept her heart closed off for years. Uallach Eisner's heart has never beat in the first place. Fighting for humanity or no, neither has the best grasp on what it means to be human. Perhaps they can learn just what that means through each other, however. A collection of poems about the love between them and their path to learning who they are.





	1. A hand reached out

In another time, another place  
she never took your hand  
or looked you in the eye.  
You hardly knew her at all  
or she you for that matter  
and in the end of it all  
you barely knew yourself.  
No one did.  
  
In another time and the same place  
she let go of your hand  
and looked you hard in the eye  
before turning her back to you forever  
and as she did a hope you held died.  
You hoped she would stand beside you  
no matter what you had done  
nor what you must do,  
and as that hope died  
you knew for certain then  
there was no room in your heart,  
not for her or any other like her  
because an emperor must stand on her own.  
It was foolish to think otherwise.  
  
In this time and this place though  
she takes back your hand  
and pulls you to her side  
before the monster in hiding,  
despite all that you had done  
and the order she was given.  
You can't make sense of it.  
Not then nor five years later  
and even when she returns  
to you look you in the eye again,  
for the first time in ages,  
you can't make sense of it.  
Yet all the same you reach out  
to take her hand in yours  
with a hope rekindled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on pronunciation: Uallach is a fairly rare Irish given name dating back to the 8th century at least meaning 'proud' or 'haughty'. The intended pronunciation in these poems is, roughly, 'OO-ah-luch' or 'OO-al-luch'. The 'ch' is the same as the one in the word 'loch', which one can think of as an exceptionally breathy 'k'. Try making an 'h' sound while saying the word 'cart' to get a sound like it. The diminutive nickname Uallachán is roughly pronounced 'oo-lah-chan', again with the 'ch' in 'loch'. It's pronounced with the same rhythm as the word 'hooligan'.


	2. A winter haiku by Uallach

Snow blankets Fódlan  
sliced open by red stockings  
a winter's rose: El


	3. A mystery worth solving

Impressed  
is what she could say  
of her new teacher.  
Impressed by her swordwork,  
her steely resolve in command,  
and her practical lessons.  
She couldn't say she knew her, though.  
  
Even beyond their just having met  
the professor was inscrutable.  
Her face was almost a void  
devoid seemingly of all feeling.  
She never smiled once  
and she hadn't laughed either.  
One might assume she'd be frustrated  
by Linhardt napping in class,  
but while she chided him surely  
she didn't wear a frown  
or raise her tone,   
nothing at all.  
She simply woke him  
and had a criticism at the ready  
delivered in monotone.  
  
And then the professor joked.  
  
Her heart doesn't beat.  
She said that clear as day  
in her now familiar flat tone  
for Edelgard and others to hear  
and without the slightest hint  
of mirth or deception.  
It left the heir with but one option,  
a sole, singular conclusion:  
The professor was being truthful.  
Entirely so.  
  
So Edelgard was impressed  
and how could she not be?  
Her swordwork? Perfect.  
Her command? Flawless.  
Her lessons? No better to be found.  
Most of all though  
she was a mystery  
that defied explanation.


	4. A Demon Dyed Red

The stench of blood,  
the sight of gore:  
that was the heat of war.  
That was what she knew best  
from her earliest days  
though not like this,  
to this extent, to this extreme.  
  
Men piled up on the ground,  
crows circling overhead.  
Not a day goes by  
without the threat of  
drawn swords, pointed spears.  
She knew battle best  
but not like this.  
  
Not with another  
at her side  
day in, day out  
in each and every skirmish  
prized above all  
and felt for at all.  
Her father had stood  
by her side,  
but he fell too soon  
for her to know  
and she didn't know  
till he was gone.  
  
A swing of the axe  
took down one man  
in a single strike.  
The thrust of her sword  
took yet another  
and still more piled in  
seeking to quash the flame,  
to fell the Emperor  
and her, the dread professor.  
  
Around her and lord both  
the bodies piled up,  
the air sticky with blood.  
They were a pair together  
against the whole of the world  
driven by ideals,  
only apart by foes  
and then only for moments.  
  
But in a moment  
a shriek rang out  
and she turned back  
to see it happen  
in just a moment.  
A dagger to the knee,  
to the back between plates  
from a dying man  
laid on the floor.  
The lord dropped to her knees  
and another rose up  
an axe in hand.  
  
It took but a moment  
and in that was eternity,  
time frozen shut  
not by god will  
but shock alone  
and the weight of never again.  
She didn't know grief,  
till her father fell.  
She didn't know longing,  
till she couldn't see him,  
familiar face, familiar voice.  
She couldn't have known  
till it was too late  
and knowing it then  
her blood froze.  
  
Till time went with  
to be pulled back  
by god force fueled  
by rage never felt before.  
She yanked back the seconds.  
She tore a man to shreds.  
She swung the blade,  
snake like whip reaching  
that axe wielding man.  
  
The blade pulled back  
ripping and rending,  
dropping a man to the floor  
but not forever, not quite.  
Not till she ran forth  
a shout on the lips  
and a face aflame  
for the second time ever.  
But the dagger dug in  
and the shriek rang out  
as the axe man fell  
from a blade plunged deep  
through plate and flesh.  
  
Her work, the war,  
not done yet  
she forgot the time,  
and caution with  
as the Emperor fell  
down to her knees  
propped up only by axe  
and a will to live  
'til their work was done.  
  
A dagger was ready  
hanging from her belt.  
A dagger in hand  
ready to drop  
upon the man.  
She fell upon him  
hate in the throat  
to drive him through  
knife at the throat.  
  
They would not do it,  
they would not take her  
not her, not ever.  
Whatever she'd done,  
however he fell  
they would not take her,  
not now, not ever  
so the others fell  
one by one  
by sword and spell  
until none were left  
because she knew,  
she knew never again.


	5. Tower of Dreams

Ascending the stairs  
to wait for the crimson girl-  
burgeoning yearning.  
  
\--  
  
Tower at nightfall  
treasured love stories fall too-  
a fated meeting.  
  
\--  
  
Fairytale meeting,  
a dream stretches out, love true-  
but dreams are just dreams.  
  
\--  
  
To selfishly hold,  
the dream of dance in both hearts-  
a headache ends it.  
  
\--  
  
A promise made dear,  
pact kept though five years pass by-  
dreams, they do come true.


	6. Homesick Heartache - Musings on Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for mention of major character death

When you look around  
what is it that you see?  
Friends, held dear, lined up,  
prepared to die for a cause  
that you hadn’t explained  
till there was no time left.  
  
You see friends about you,  
regardless of your secrecy  
that you kept to for years  
right under their noses,  
feigning ignorance always  
even to them.  
  
What you do not see  
no matter how hard you look  
is the one who made you think  
and reconsider the lies  
even if only for a moment,  
even if you kept to them in the end.  
You do not see the one  
who stood by you there  
deep in that crypt  
despite all you had hid  
and all you had done.  
You do not see her, the professor.  
  
So while you look around  
and while you see friends  
who have stuck by your side  
through these long years  
you cannot see beyond them,  
you cannot find what was lacking  
during those long years:  
family held dear,  
your professor here.  
  
–  
  
There’d been no one there  
to call her El,  
not a single one  
for so many years,  
but she’d grown used to it.  
An “Edie” here,  
a “Lady Edelgard” there.  
That would do just fine  
and she let El pass away  
seeking only the future.  
  
Until five years later  
after that fatal attack  
there came crawling back  
from the riverbanks  
the professor they loved so,  
and as she took her in her arms  
holding her close,  
tighter than any before  
she wished hard  
that there was one at least  
to call her El.  
  
–  
  
Family  
was a hard word  
when once it was easy.  
There had been thirteen  
and then some,  
all together  
even when apart.  
Then there were two  
and soon there will be one.  
Family  
is a hard word,  
one she wished  
she didn’t know.  
  
–  
  
Familiar halls, familiar faces  
cherished for certain  
but each ever lacking  
that one trait that binds  
one with another forever and more.  
  
–  
  
On the light summer days  
sitting at the table  
with a cup in hand  
and a laugh in the throat  
the dark seems so far away.  
  
The professor tells a joke,  
or so she thinks  
but they work right through it  
as she works through a cake  
that the professor gave her,  
and she remembers times past  
with sisters and brothers  
that for but a moment  
the fire feels so warm.  
  
As the year goes by  
her work continues on  
deep in secret,  
but as she sits there  
with the professor at hand  
the dark seems so far away.  
  
–  
  
She felled a brother that day,  
the last of many.  
She crushed a love that day,  
the first of two.  
  
Even as she gains she loses  
for a flame can’t but burn.  
  
–  
  
How does one look  
the one who gave it back,  
your home so dear,  
in the eye  
when one knows  
that you took it from her,  
father so dear?  
You didn’t think of this  
till she asked,  
and now?  
You are speechless.  
  
–  
  
Did your father ever lie  
to you?  
No,  
he can’t have, you know it.  
  
So how can you to her?  
  
–  
  
Damp halls  
echo out  
with the cries  
of your beloved  
siblings dear  
and your breath  
grows  
faint  
as  
they  
step  
near,  
but  
she is there  
hand on the door  
as you scream:  
Professor.  
  
–  
  
“Please,  
call me El,”  
is what she says.  
“Please,  
I need you  
to call me El,”  
is what she means.


	7. The Lovers' Back-and-Forth

Like the morning sun  
you roused me from my slumber  
and guided me back on home.  
  
No, you are that star  
for I longed ever for you  
as a rose does the sun’s light.  
  
—  
  
My heart never beat  
till I spied your face, my dear,  
and came to know you as you.  
  
Only you have seen  
what was hid behind my mask  
for you gave me back my heart.  
  
—  
  
The nights aren’t so cold  
not even here in Faerghus  
when I have you by my side.  
  
The nights don’t scare me  
no matter what I dream of  
when your arms are around me.  
  
—  
  
Even a pruned rose  
springs up brighter than before  
if one cares for it truly.  
  
Even fallow fields  
may have life hidden in them  
if one looks past the first glance.  
  
—  
  
A warm hand reached out,  
that is all I had needed  
to pull you back from the dark.  
  
And yet I wonder,  
if you had pulled back your hand  
would I still have found the light?  
  
—  
  
The eagle soars high,  
a king above all other birds.  
That is the Hresvelg herald.  
  
Even eagles rest  
beside their mates as equals.  
That is your Eisner wisdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The form used here is somonka, a kind of lover's exchange poem from Japan. Each poem is comprised of two parts, with each half being composed by one half of a couple. With these particular poems the first half of each is Uallach's perspective and the second half is Edelgard's.


	8. Treasured Gifts

A true game of wits  
The Crimson against the Ash-  
Bonding through play war  
  
\--  
  
Harsh girl of harsh world  
with boundless love for stuffed bears-  
A gift from Teacher  
  
\--  
  
Carnations so loved  
fill her room and her heart too-  
Love begins to bloom


	9. Red Dreams

I see war  
woman in red  
red like flame  
flower in bloom  
blossom forgotten  
torn hope failing  
falling to dark  
dark without end  
end of a sword  
sword to throat  
throat of world  
world of words  
words of hope  
hope to walk  
walk together  
hand in hand  
hand on sword  
sword on dragon  
dragon fallen  
fallen hopes here  
here fall tears  
tears of woman  
woman of war  
I see it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece is written in an Old Irish form called rosc. Rosc poetry is heavily associated with warfare in the Irish myth cycles, with the poems often being incitements to or oracles of war. The form is stylistically marked by short lines with stark images and heavy alliteration. Rosc seemed a fitting form to play with the fan idea of the Professor's dreams in each NG+ cycle being that of the past route's war. A dream of Silver Snow sparking on Crimson Flower.


	10. Stubbornly Standing

We’ll go down on this sinking ship  
together, you and I, with a cry of  
‘Your death will not be in vain,’  
and I will hold you above the depths  
for as long as my arms are able  
seeking that peaceful shore’s respite  
but if we must lose this war then  
we’ll go down together, you and I.


	11. The smallest pulse

There was a blank there  
where most people had something,  
a hole so big  
that you had gotten a name for it.  
But while you have tea  
and you hear her say that word  
as though she never has  
before this moment now  
you feel like there's something there,  
just a hint.  
You feel like you're having 'fun'.


	12. Sheer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for nsfw

separated  
by gloves  
and by dresses  
one would think  
she has the greater rein  
over you  
and your form  
but the fabric  
holds her back  
just the same  
leaving only  
a single point of contact  
foreheads pressed together  
then lips the same  
breath on the face  
against the neck  
but never more  
than a gloved hand  
on the thigh  
until she is ready


	13. The Coming Night

What are you scared of  
when the sun comes along  
to chase away the dark  
of your dreaming mind?  
  
The very notion that she can  
and the knowledge that she’ll leave  
when the time comes at last.  
  
It’s best to grow used to sunset  
before the night falls forever.


	14. Dichotomous Slice

Flushed face and gaze so intense  
Dinner things lined up  
Before the fool  
  
The blade falls through flesh  
  
Emperor looms, judgement passed  
No delight taken  
She’s not so cruel


	15. The Door's Open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sequel poem to The Coming Night

The nightmares creep  
in the early morning hours,  
grabbing on hold  
of your shoulders  
to pull you down  
back to childhood  
when time had no concept.  
  
With a fright  
you bolt up and shout  
at nothing  
where you thought  
there was something,  
and the shame  
crawls up your spine  
as you see ahead  
nothing but tent.  
  
In the days past  
you'd lay back down  
without intent  
to sleep or rest  
but merely to hide,  
yet now as you lay  
the urge boils up  
to step outside  
and search for her,  
the one who said  
her door was open.  
  
So you sit up  
and you stand too  
to step outside  
your tent and more  
in search of her,  
to take her offer  
as she takes  
your hand.  
  
The fear seeps in  
telling you again  
to run and hide,  
to never share  
not with her  
nor with any  
but never with her  
most especially,  
but you push past  
that fear  
as you walk up  
to her tent.  
  
You can barely feel  
your hands there  
as you pull back  
the tent folds  
and as you ask  
for help this night,  
just a talk.  
  
The talk turns  
to crying  
and the crying  
to hugging  
which stiffens  
the spine  
for fear  
of this,  
of her,  
but you stay still  
and she stays too  
as the fear  
falls right off  
your shoulders  
and you are left  
with just tears.  
  
And as morning creeps  
you lay back down  
with her now here  
in her tent there  
her arms around you  
holding tight,  
so that sleep  
can crawl right back.


	16. swallow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for nsfw

"El, on your knees. Now."  
Your words, they bound me, my dear,  
and so I took to your belt.  
  
You are a good girl,  
taking myself in your mouth  
even as I came undone.


	17. The Best of Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for nsfw

Pressed down into the bed,  
dresses pushed up high,  
underwear to the floor  
and a head between the thighs...  
  
She digs her hands  
into the sheets  
as she enunciates that name,  
oh, that name.  
  
_U-al-lach._  
  
Three syllables, so perfect.  
  
A moan of 'ooh',  
An exhaled 'ah',  
ending on that last,  
the breathy 'lach'  
which falls from the throat easy  
in a shuddering sigh  
as she rolls her hips  
against the face  
between her thighs.  
  
Oh, how the Emperor loves that name.


	18. Marriage Can't Mend All Wounds

Sometimes, my dear,  
I fear that I’ve tricked you  
leading you astray  
from the path that  
you were meant to take.  
Even as we lay together  
here in this bed  
your arms around me  
I fear that I’ve tricked you  
and lead you astray.  
  
For how could you have picked me,  
after all that I’ve done?


	19. A Job Well Done

Running about Garreg Mach  
to the sounds of students asking  
“Professor?”  
and those of young monks scoffing  
“Professor!”  
has become something of a habit.  
  
The lists of tasks pile up  
each and every month  
on the message boards in notes  
and the counselor’s head in the cathedral,  
asking for advice here, a snack there.  
  
Why it turns the weekends into a job!  
  
But the delight of a job well done  
outweighs the time she loses  
as she scrambles about the monastery  
each and every month.  
  
Yet that joy pales in comparison  
to that she feels at the end  
when all her tasks are complete;  
the joy at seeing Edelgard.  
A turn of the head, an inquiry of  
“Yes, my teacher?”  
which turns to bright appreciation,  
“Thank you, my teacher!”  
all for a simple gift of flowers.  
  
It’s turned a job into a habit!


	20. Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Silver Snow poem instead of Crimson Flower.

You told me  
that I could trust you  
with anything.  
  
You told me  
you would be there  
always.  
  
Yet  
in the crypt  
you abandoned me.  
  
There will be no blood left to bleed  
when I am done with you.  
None.  
**At all.**


	21. There is no life without you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sequel poem to Betrayal

Those lies I told myself,  
that there was nothing in you,  
nothing to you at all  
save a vessel  
for the Archbishop  
come tumbling down  
in the throne room  
as I rest on my knees.  
  
I wish we could have walked  
together.


	22. Strength of Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Silver Snow poem

There was never a chance  
of my besting you.  
Not for a gulf in skill  
but simply because  
I could not bring down the blade.  
  
_ But you can._  
  
And I adore you for it.


	23. Wishing for Void

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Silver Snow poem from Uallach's perspective

I miss the days  
when I felt nothing for the slaughtered  
right now as I look  
at your head severed  
before my feet.


	24. Grief, Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more Silver Snow poems

I stand here now  
over your gave  
as you said I would  
for the fourth week now.  
  
Dorothea comes  
and she asks me  
if I am fine  
and the answer is “No,”  
  
Because I realize now  
there was more  
back at school  
when you mentioned masks  
  
You tried  
to tell me  
as you could.  
You tried.  
  
–  
  
Storm clouds hide the sun…  
I stand over a crushed rose  
weeping openly.


	25. Thalassophilia

The infinite expanse  
of the ocean  
stretches out  
seeming to swallow  
her whole,  
as she steps forward  
for a first kiss  
and those arms  
pull her close.  
  
_Oh_, drowning is easier than Edelgard thought.


	26. All that she was...

Edelgard von Hresvelg,  
this is her name.  
Black Eagle House Leader,  
this is her role.  
The Adrestian Empire,  
this is her home.  
  
She wears red,  
her hair is white,  
her eyes lavender.  
She prefers the axe  
and has a talent for magic.  
Her marks are high  
but she cannot cook.  
  
Carnations,  
this is her flower.  
Stuffed bears,  
she likes them.  
Bergamot,  
this is her tea.  
Board games,  
she likes them.  
  
This is her sum.  
Nothing more,  
nothing less.


	27. ...and what she means now

She is a rose  
in full bloom  
surviving   
winter snows,  
beautiful  
to behold  
and precious,  
so beloved.  
  
She is a warmth  
where once  
there was none,  
only cold  
in facts and lists  
laid out  
without thought  
or feeling.  
  
She is a pulse  
that breathed  
life   
into a heart  
that never moved  
not once  
before now.


	28. A Girl Worth Choosing

She's asked you, she has,  
a few times now, she has,  
how you could have stayed,  
how you picked her still  
over the Church and Rhea  
in spite of it all:  
the lying, the sneaking, the stealing.  
  
(and your father's death,  
but she never asks that,  
and you never speak of it,  
but you know you will some day)  
  
She's asked you, she has,  
and you find it hard to word  
just what you see beyond that.  
But there's a girl in there  
who laughs at your stories,  
who talks of things smartly  
with a passion that you envy.  
There's a girl behind there  
who doesn't malign you,  
who doesn't mind what you lack  
and even appreciates it.  
There's a girl you see there  
who is clever and strong willed,  
who is willing to bend that will  
if only to your words right now.  
  
(but your father is not here,  
he lies in the ground now,  
but neither of you talk of that,  
the words lay below the surface)  
  
So how could you have picked any different?  
(you can't shake the feeling that you did once)  
How could you when you can see that girl there?


	29. A Smile Worth Everything

The way she smiles  
when she really smiles  
could melt away any ice,  
no matter how thick.  
  
To see one there peeking  
just over a tea cup  
gives these outings here  
a whole other meaning,  
one that breaks right through  
a life's worth of void.  
  
Ah, Edelgard...  
The world for her smile  
seems a fair trade.


	30. Marital Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for post-coital dysphoria

There was a head  
between her thighs.  
A woman's head.  
_Her _head.  
  
Ah,  
it seemed a dream  
even now  
after so long,  
the years passing by,  
to have her  
here, right here  
between her thighs  
and not a hint  
of fear  
to be found  
as the tension  
builds and builds,  
bit by bit,  
a growing heat  
between her thighs  
as she rolls her hips  
against the head  
_her _head,  
as time comes  
to a halt  
leaving only her  
and the growing tide  
which threatens--  
rushing forth,  
_again, again  
more, more--_  
threatens to roll  
right over the land  
leaving nothing, nothing  
but one moment,  
one moment  
in time  
a single point  
as a pop  
and, ah,  
the dam is overrun at last  
by the rushing tides that run, run  
right over the land leaving nothing, nothing  
and the cry that comes  
is not  
  
It is not joy,  
ecstatic, exuberant,   
but a wracking sob  
as the sea rushes in  
swallowing up the land,  
pulling her down, down  
to depths,  
depths only _they _see.  
Those who do not see,  
the piles of bodies  
that towered up  
only to be covered  
by flowers, by flowers  
each and every morning  
in the hopes, the hope,  
that it could be washed  
right off, the guilt.  
  
_What right has she to this moment?  
When she has stolen just the same  
from so many others like her?  
_  
"El?"  
  
The voice is loud,  
and it is clear  
  
but the sound  
seems so far off  
  
but she looks  
to see that face  
_her _face  
rising up from  
between her thighs  
to look at her.  
  
Concern, care--  
they are there  
for her to run to  
whenever she needs,  
but as _she _creeps  
up the bed,  
she turns to hide,  
face buried deep  
into the sheets, just sheets  
she only has sheets,  
just _sheets_ to hide her.  
  
_Even years of learning come down_  
to leave only a woman looking in vain  
for a mask to hide behind.  
  
"El..."  
  
The voice is closer,  
coming with a hand  
running through her hair  
and another is felt,  
warm thumb against her arm.  
  
But she is not forced  
out from her hiding.  
Not by force,  
never by force.  
Only time  
and in her time only.  
  
And in time  
she does not look  
but she crawls  
her way right  
into those thighs  
that seem a dream  
being so far  
though so close  
as she rests her face  
between them then  
seeking the shore.  
  
And in time   
the dream slips  
as the sea recedes   
making the world  
whole once more  
with a hand  
on her shoulder  
and another  
caught in her hair.  
**  
"El."**


	31. A Sacrificial Lamb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for child abuse
> 
> Not directly Edeleth, but it's an important bit of set building.

You  
sit there  
in the dark  
and sometimes  
it is  
quiet  
  
and you hate that more  
than all the sound  
because you know, you do,  
just what it  
  
means  
  
You hate it, you do,  
until They  
come to take  
another  
kicking,  
screaming,  
begging  
  
and then  
  
You  
stay put,  
stay quiet,  
unpicked  
because you know,  
you do,  
just what it means  
  
**The sound**  
  
\--  
  


There was never a chance  
of you fighting back then.  
Not for lack of strength,  
though you certainly lacked it,  
but for lack of will.

And you bear that weight on your back.

What else could drive you?


	32. Masks upon Masks

I told you once to wait  
for him for drop the mask  
and tell me then  
what you think of him.

But now that I think of it,  
do I even know what lies  
underneath that mask of mine?


	33. Questionable Methods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An AM route poem about the post-timeskip battle at Gronder Field. Warnings for major character death.

You look at me now  
as though I am a monster  
for having set her ablaze  
and starting this war at all.

I ask of you though,  
my teacher,  
what else was I to do?  
Is it not enough  
that she die not in vain?  
How can one life alone  
outweigh so many more?

I ask you that, my teacher.


	34. Sometimes

You can see it sometimes  
peeking out from the mask,  
that boundless passion  
which you have never known.

You can see it right now  
as she talks of cats  
her face all aglow  
and her voice resplendent:  
a limitless joy  
that you have never known.

How you envy her this,  
flat face that you have  
and flatter soul still.


	35. A Day of Idling

Safety,  
At last a day,  
One whole, one complete.  
A day  
Of idling.  
  
You dreamed  
Fitfully, in detail  
Of this  
Painting a picture so perfect  
That it could be mistook  
For Heaven  
But only by you.  
  
And reality,  
The reality was more,  
It was her.  
Her arms around you,  
Chin on your shoulder  
As you poked at cake  
Free from all  
Save this:  
A normal girl’s delights.  
  
_Which you have not known for so very long_  
  
A welling up,  
Suffocating, sharp  
So familiar:  
**Fear**  
  
You drop the fork.  
You pick it up.  
You laugh and set it aside.  
  
_Awash, alone  
Caught in a sea…_  
  
She calls you,  
Voice far, yet near,  
And you recoil,  
Shoulders tensing  
Heart retreating.  
From what?  
  
**A blow**  
  
But from her?  
She would never.  
  
Your lungs fill,  
And it is too hot.  
You pulls hands off  
Needing to be free  
Free from her grasp  
And the world swims  
As you stand.  
  
“I am fine.”  
  
You lie.  
  
A lie,  
You cling to it  
And you look  
Through your paintings,  
Each of them perfect,  
Simple,  
Safe,  
Without a care.  
  
_But there are so very many cares you have._  
  
You notice them,  
Tears  
And you exclaim,  
“I do not cry.”  
  
The words   
Seem distant, soft, floating.  
A haze of dream  
As the world retracts, retreats,  
Leaving you with nothing.  
  
Nothing you can handle.  
You can push through it,  
Moving forward, always  
A cold look on your face  
And a task at hand.  
  
Until now  
Where there is no task.  
  
Now there are arms  
You can barely feel  
And words  
You can barely hear  
As she sits you down.  
  
There is nothing.  
No work,  
No war,  
Nothing.  
  
So why?  
  
There is nothing  
And the nothing   
Should be something.  
It should,  
It must,  
It should.  
  
But there is nothing  
Save arms,  
Save words  
To which you cling  
For they are solid  
If distant.  
They are there.  
They are safe.  
  
_Safe._  
  
Safe, safe  
  
You are  
  
Safe  
  
**You are.**


	36. Even at our busiest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A poem originally written for Femslash February 2020. The prompt was "note".

A note was found  
Slipped under the door,  
The first half of it  
In her consort’s awkward hand  
And the second half in  
Her own careful cursive

A poem in two hands:

The day’s sun rises  
And twin duties rise with it  
Carrying us off…

The sun falls at eve  
Followed by troubles and work  
Leaving only us…


	37. The Thrill of the Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A poem originally written for Femslash February 2020. The prompt was "competition".

It’s just a game  
Is what so many say  
After their games  
With the princess.

She’d run right through  
To the reviews  
Playing back each move  
In careful sequence  
Always asking questions  
More to herself  
Than her partners  
And even Claude tired of it.

They tired of her moods too,  
For she frowned at failure  
And criticized each move made  
When she saw she slipped,  
But she boasted proudly the same  
At every falter of her foes  
No matter who they were.

It’s just a game  
So so many,  
And one not dire  
To any but the princess.

But the professor?  
Her professor?

She never said those words  
And she liked the reviews  
When they had the time for them,  
For she’d cut them short  
When lecture time came 'round  
Lest Seteth complain at her.

So the princess’ partners rose  
From two to three players  
And this newest of them was  
The most prized of all  
For she was the toughest yet,  
Making even Claude seem weak.  
The most frustrating too  
For she’d try to share mid game  
Her battle strategies  
As the princess pondered through  
The game’s course before them.  
Help was unwanted, unneeded  
For though it was just a game  
She’d best her yet, her teacher,  
And by her own grit alone  
As the thrill of the fight  
Meant all in the world to her.


	38. A Private Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A poem originally written for Femslash February 2020. The prompt was "blush".

There was a sort  
Of way El would blush,  
Uallach noticed,  
When she was hugged.  
She’d go stock still  
As her face lit up  
And if they were together  
With others still  
She’d purse her lips  
Making an odd frown  
To stifle a smile,  
And if they were alone  
She’d still try  
On reflex alone  
Before settling down  
Into a warm smile  
That only Uallach’s seen.

She liked those blushes.


	39. Will Firm As Steel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A poem originally written for Femslash 2020. The prompt was "combat". The poem itself takes place during the encounter in the crypt and can fit any of the routes.

She’d strike her down  
If she must, her teacher  
Who stood before her  
Face hard, sword upraised,  
And she told herself again  
She would fight ever on  
Without a hint of hesitation  
For her will must be firm  
And her grip certainly was  
As she raised her axe  
And her voice with it  
To declare her intent, solid  
As the lump in her throat.

She’d strike her down  
If she must, her teacher,  
For love holds naught against ambition,  
But she’d like it not.


	40. The Greatest Shield of All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A poem originally written for Femslash February 2020. The prompt was "shield".

The Emperor, she carried a great shield  
That stood almost as tall as she did,  
Onto each and every battlefield.  
Not a sword could pierce it  
Nor spear or axe nor arrow,  
Letting her charge as she saw fit,  
But magic can bite through all  
And troops beyond count can pile on  
Till the Emperor seemed ready to fall,  
Only for her consort to step forward  
Deep on into the frenzied fray  
Cutting through foe after foe onward  
The Emperor, she carried a great shield  
And an even greater behind her  
Such that none could best them on the field


	41. A Void

She can tell you stories;  
It used to be too hard  
For her to even speak of them,  
But you’ve come to know   
Their many names and faces,  
And a younger El too  
Who was less guarded than  
The one you know now.  
At times she stops part way through,  
Unable to go on   
And, rarely, she cries   
Over a family long lost,  
But she can tell you stories.

You wish you could tell her stories.

She asked you once, years back,  
At the Goddess Tower  
Who your first love was,  
And you said you never had one.  
She asked you once, months back,  
In your shared bedroom  
What your hobbies were,  
And you said you never had them.  
She asked you once, days back,  
As you cried in her arms  
What was the matter  
And you said you never had any.

There were no stories to share;  
You looked back and back,  
And never found much  
Before the Monastery.  
Sometimes there was a flash,  
A brief peek into  
The you before you were you,  
But those were rare  
And they never held the weight  
Of anything at the Monastery  
Or of what came after it.

You saw a river,  
It was cold to the touch,  
Your father scolded you  
And you nodded,  
Feeling nothing.  
You got a cake,  
It had a taste,  
Your father talked  
And you nodded,  
Feeling nothing.  
You killed a man,  
His blood was warm to the touch,  
Your father consoled you  
And you nodded,  
Feeling nothing.

But after going there,  
After living with them  
You started to see him  
And started to know him.  
He laughed heartily,  
He smiled kindly,  
He joked of death  
Because what else can you do  
When death is your life’s work?  
You got to know him  
For a few brief months  
And then he was gone  
Just as you’d got to know him.

Her stories span years,  
Yours only months.  
Her stories seem warm,  
Yours seem stiff.

She can tell you stories,  
You wish you could do the same.


	42. Walking With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A followup to The Void from Edelgard's perspective.

You were robbed of life  
Much the same as I,  
And though I do not understand  
Nor shall I ever be able,  
I will stand right beside you,  
Much as you did for me,  
And help you take back life.


	43. We seem like stone

I stand up,  
Look at you  
And see myself,  
Cold, distant

I say so,  
You argue  
That you’re not  
Distant, cold

I’ve overstepped,  
But I see you  
And you see me,  
And we see the world  
Looking at us  
Befuddled, confused  
Asking us both  
“Where is your warmth?”


	44. We are the Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A followup to We seem like stone from the Professor's perspective.

You said we were alike,  
You said I was detached.  
I argued that, I still do.  
But I think about how  
My face has trouble  
Forming the right looks  
At the right times,  
And how when I look back  
I don’t find those times,  
Funny or sad,  
That everyone else does,  
And I think then,  
However much I might argue  
That part of why I love you  
Is because we are alike,  
Because we’re both detached.


End file.
